If Mulan Went to High School
by Handmaiden of Artemis
Summary: It wasn't hard to save the world. But how will Mulan survive cliques, classes, and cafeteria food? Not to mention attention from a certain football playing cutie.... AU, MxS
1. My Pathetic Existence

If Mulan Went To High School

The bothersome beeping of my alarm clock breaks the silence of the early morning. I groan, rolling over on my side to look through bleary eyes at the illuminated numbers. Six a.m., you've got to be joking. Somehow, my pillow comes flying at the clock, and the still-shrieking machine hits the wall with a clunk. I grin sadistically. Whoops, clumsy me.

"Mulan, what was that?" my mother calls down the hall.

"Nothing," I yell back, picking up my clock and putting it back on my nightstand. _Good as new_, I pacify my guilty conscience, even though the hour and minute hands are now sagging pathetically downward so the time will forevermore be 5:30.

That's me, by the way. Mulan. Only a short time ago I was a normal girl, happy with my unexciting life. And I _mean_ unexciting. It had about the same thrill factor as retirement home bingo. But then I just happened to save the world and I am now a worldwide celebrity. Needless to say it's a long, involved story. I'll save it for another time.

Today I'm just trying to return to that old normalcy. I totter off to the bathroom to brush my teeth, stumbling over my red stuffed dragon on the way. After breakfast, I return to my room to get dressed. After yet another uninspired wardrobe choice—jeans, and my favorite Save the Whales T-shirt—my eyes catch on to the objects cluttering the top of my dresser. Here are the things that just love to remind me that I can never again be normal. I run my fingers over my medal, the picture of me with the president, and gaze at the sack full of letters I had received from around the world. Along with that, my room contains dozens of newspapers with my picture on the front (why had they used that awful picture, when I had braces and the world's worst haircut?). The headlines were the best part though. They boasted things like "World Saved From Disaster By Local Girl" and "UN Declares 17-year-old Person of the Year". But, whatever, I don't have time for all that today. I have a chemistry test and—oh snap, I'm going to miss the bus. I fly out the door, my heavy bag clunking against my back as I awkwardly try to run with the added weight. Not exactly the ideal image of a world savior, but I still have to go to school.

The bus arrives, me barely making it. I climb aboard and instantly all conversation stops. Everyone stares at me until I sit down. I slump down in my seat and stare out of the window, trying to avoid their whispers and not-so-sneaky glances.

I get to school and more whispers follow me down the hallway. I make sure to avoid that one crazy girl who likes to stalk me. Doesn't she have a life? Anyways, I've gotten used to a path appearing in front of me as the crowd parts, so I'm not paying attention when someone bumps into me, scattering my books and papers. Great. I bend down to pick them up and—I'm not even joking—the dreamy captain of the football team starts to help!

"I'm so sorry," he says nervously, scrambling to pick up my stuff, "I wasn't paying attention, and I was kind of in a hurry, so I'm really sorry." He hands me my math book with a panicked look on his face. What, does he think I have my own detachment of the Secret Service ready to take him down?

"It's okay," I reassure him. Wait, _me_ reassuring _him_? This is rather odd. Maybe when I saved the world I accidentally broke the space-time continuum or something, forever altering life as we know it. We both stand up, and before I turn to leave he says:

"I'm playing at the game on Friday, you should come." His face is so hopeful I can only stare at him.

"Uh…sure," was my very articulate response. I must be on to something about the space-time continuum and the dominant social order. Because that sounded an awful lot like a date. He flashes me a small grin (If I had been any less shocked I think I would have swooned on the spot) and then he continues down the hall.

Which reminds me, I'd better get to my first hour. After all, if I fail my classes it's not like I can write "That-one-girl-who-saved-the-world" under "name" on my college applications. Wait…maybe that _would_ be a good idea...

The ringing of the morning bell interrupts that thought, and so starts another day of high school.

* * *

Howdy friends! Now, before you start yellling at me and saying "How could you have written something else when you should be working oh-so-hard on that amazing story "A General's Son"??!!", let me just tell you I wrote this last year for a language arts presentation. That's right, I actually read that in front of a class...of people. Yikes! And I'm still embarassed thinking about it, because I thought I was being very clever and that everyone would get a great big kick out of it, but...well let's just say after I finished I felt like making the cricket noise. You know, the one in movies when someone gets to stand there looking like an idiot and everyone else just stares at them. Yeah, that one. If I needed to come up with my most embarassing moment I think that would be it. But, on the bright side maybe someone out there in cyberspace will like it?? Please PLEASE like it! My poor little self esteem can't take much more rejection! Aha I'm just kidding. Even if no one else likes it I still think it's amusing. I still love reviews though, so hit that button everyone either dreads or loves. Thanks so much. Oh and by the way- that crazy stalker girl Mulan was talking about? That's me :) 


	2. Chemistry

Chapter 2: "Chemistry"

Two words: chemistry final.

Are you cringing? You should be. Why, oh why did I take chemistry, I kick myself. No one deserves this kind of torture. Shouldn't the teacher give me the teeniest, tiniest bit of slack? Even if he is the hardest teacher in school…

I find myself visualizing all of the things I'd rather be doing than this, like being hit by a bus, reading the dictionary, or even eating liver and onions for breakfast every morning.

_No, bad Mulan, _my inner voice scolds me, _get back to work! _I grumble under my breath and the kid sitting next to me looks at me strangely. Pretending I didn't see that, I diligently finish the rest of the test. Breathing a sigh of relief when it's done, maybe not done right, but done, I turned the test into the teacher and proceeded back to my seat. I rooted around in my bag for the book I always had ready for times like this and opened up to the bookmarked page.

Instead of reading, however, I found myself merely staring at the page. I couldn't read after what had happened before class. I couldn't really think either. Every time I remembered how nervous he was—odd for the usually confident guy that had been there since middle school—and that dazzling smile…Well, needless to say it had my brain a little muddled.

_Okay_, the logical part of me piped up again, _here are the facts:_ 1: _Shang Li talked to you. To you!_ Just the thought of his name made my stomach flip like in the movies. I didn't know that could really happen. 2: _He's asked you on a…a what? Date? _No…it couldn't be. _As a trap for a cruel practical joke? _More probable, but it really doesn't seem like him. _To win a bet with his friends? _Okay, enough of this. The only thing we've learned is that his motives can't be good. I mean, why would _he_ reach out to me in a gesture of friendship or…something more than that? Like I said: not possible. The only thing to do is to avoid him, I decided. This girl is nobody's fool, and she's not going to fall for your tricks that easily.

With that resolve in mind I marched with determination to my locker after class was over. But oh, fate was not on my side today, or any day for that matter.

"Hello Mulan."

It only took those two words for my determination never to talk to Shang Li again crumble like the Berlin Wall. It was our second encounter that day (our second encounter _ever)_ only this time our roles were reversed: he was the calm one while I scrambled for words. I realized then that that was most likely how it would be from now on.

"Hi," I said, breathless, seeing stars swirling in front of my eyes (most likely from the lack of oxygen to my brain). I fumbled to steady myself with the bank of lockers on my left, sure that any second I'd fall and smash my head on the floor. _That_ would be attractive.

"I just wanted to give you the details about the game…you said you were going to come, right?"

"Um, actually, I don't think…" I try to summon the courage I had sitting in chemistry but, then again, I didn't have to look at his crestfallen face before. I trail off dumbly, and let him tell me everything all of the posters (including the one posted up just over his right shoulder) say regarding the upcoming football game. Is he really that desperate to talk to me, or does he think I'm too much of an idiot to read a flyer?

_Maybe he just really wants you to come, _my ever-present annoyance reasons, _It's really kind of sweet._ I stifle a snort at that comment, but I still can't help but watch as Shang walks away. He turns and looks at me one last time over his shoulder, and I feel an electric shock zip up my spine as he smiles back at me.

I'm suddenly reminded of something I probably heard in a sappy movie sometime (or was it from my mom??): the stuff in the classroom isn't the only type of chemistry.

* * *

Hi hi everyone! I'm back (finally)! Sorry to those who I told I would be updating soon a long while ago, because obviously I didn't live up to my promise. (I'm being flogged as we speak). But here it is, chapter 2! Don't worry, chapter 3 is longer and better. Toodles! Thanks so much for all the reviews! You guys rock. 


	3. My First, and Last, Friday Night

If Mulan Went To High School Chapter 3:

My First, and Last, Friday Night

"So Mulan," my mother said as a sat at the kitchen table doing some last minute studying for my last two finals, "It's the last day of the quarter tomorrow. Are you doing anything interesting after school?"

Uh oh. This was her standard Friday-night-worried-about-my-daughter's-social-growth-and-development inquisition. I could usually diffuse her with the standard too much homework excuse, but since she knew I wouldn't have any homework I'd have to get creative. Too bad my head was too full of history dates and math equations, not to mention one Shang Li. Dang it. It flipped again. I've really got to work on that…

"Um…" I said, trying to stall for time. My mother just stared at me and watched while my brain screamed at me: _Quick! Say something—anything! _So I said the first thing that popped into my head—and instantly regretted it.

"I'm going to the football game at school."

My mom looked as if I'd said something crazy—like I was going to get a prison-style tattoo on my rear end or hotwire a car and escape to Mexico. "You….are?" she asked, incredulous.

"Sure…why not," I replied, trying to act casual.

_You fool! _My brain hissed at me_, you've doomed us both! _Man my subconscious was dramatic.

"Well, all right then," my mother smiled slightly, proud that her only child wasn't a total social reject. Oh, if she only knew the truth…

So Friday night found me being dropped off like a dork at the game (my parents were visiting some friends and needed the car). I waited in line to get a ticket, trying not to notice all of the groups of friends and happy couples decked out in the school colors with varying degrees of facial paint. The woman selling tickets was a parent of a student, I guessed, so she didn't give me any funny looks or make any comments. For this, I was exceedingly grateful. I had had enough humiliation for one lifetime.

"Here you go dear," she said brightly, tearing me a ticket from the roll she held.

"Thank you," I said, and she smiled and nodded in return. I made my way to the bleachers and sat down on the very edge of the first row. It would make my escape that much easier once the game was done. It's not that I don't like football—I quite enjoy it actually—it's just I don't like social situations, or things that have the potential to turn into social situations. And this definitely had the potential. It's not every day Shang Li asks you to anything. Speaking of that…

I scanned the field, looking for the reason I was here. And there he was, in all his wonder. I had to admit he looked even better than usual in his black and white uniform, if that was even possible. _Number 22, I'll have to remember that,_ I told myself. Because if I had to do one thing at this game, it was going to be to watch the captain in action.

The team huddled up, and his back was to the crowd. I read and reread his last name written in bold white letters so many times it felt like a chant: _Li! Li! Li! Li!_ Then the team broke up with a resounding whoop and the fans cheered as the game began. True to what I promised myself my eyes didn't leave him for more than a minute. I didn't miss much, because he seemed to carry the entire team to victory. I knew of course that he was good (he had to be, to be the captain and first-string quarterback), but I didn't realize he was that phenomenal. He was the perfect combination of grace and power, strategy and pure instinct, a-Ahhh! Stop it Mulan!

I shook my head several times, realizing that the game was over and I was one of the few people left on the bleachers, my hands gripping my seat so tightly my knuckles were white. I got up, feeling dazed and shaky, and walked through the small crowd still milling about. I expected to see my parents waiting for me with the car, but they weren't there. I sighed and rested my arms on the chain-link fence that separated the field from the parking lot. Now that I had nothing to distract myself with, I was impatient to leave. The minutes went by and people trickled past me, singing the school's fight song and celebrating our victory. Soon the only people left were the workers cleaning up the bleachers and the area around the concessions stand, and one out of place Chinese girl.

"Of all days to be late," I muttered, resting my chin on my hands and staring glumly into the parking lot.

"I was hoping you'd come," came a voice from behind me.

I whirled around, no doubt in my mind about who it would be. And there he was—his hair wet and hanging in his eyes like he'd just showered, a giant duffel that was almost as big as him slung easily over his broad shoulder (Okay, how could this guy not have a girlfriend?).

"Yeah, er, thanks for inviting me," I said as soon as I'd gotten my wits about me. "It was a really great game."

Shang bobbed his head in agreement. "The team's been practicing really hard lately. They deserve to win."

Jeez, he's modest too. He acts like he couldn't go against the other team by himself and win.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he finished. When I didn't—couldn't—think of anything to say and just stood there, staring at him like a total idiot, he wisely jumped in again. "So, what are you doing here so late? Everyone else is gone. Don't tell me you were waiting from me all this time," he grinned so I would know he was joking.

Of course I still turned a most-uncute bright red color. "No," I stammered, trying to brush it off as if I hadn't just been blushing like crazy, "I'm waiting for my ride…they're a little late." I glanced back at the parking lot, wishing that my parents would come to save me from further humiliation, while at the same time hoping that he wouldn't see the patheticness that is getting picked up by your parents.

"I could give you a ride," he offered, gesturing to one of the few cars left in the lot.

"No, that's okay. I don't want you to have to go out of your way."

"It wouldn't be a problem," he assured me, "you and I live pretty close together."

Oh, right. I forgot about that. "Well, I…" I didn't have time to deliberate further because a smart honk from behind me turned out to be my parents coming to pick me up at last.

"Mulan honey," my mom called out the window, "Sorry we're a little late." I grimaced and turned to Shang, half-expecting him to burst out laughing on the spot. Either that or never speak to my again. But to my surprise…

"Some other time then," he said quietly, his eyes burning into mine. Now that I think of it, I believe I like the nervous Shang better than this intense one. I felt like he was peering straight through me, seeing everything (No, not that kind of everything. Get your minds out of the gutter people).

He must have been satisfied with what he saw because he flashed me a quick grin, waved to my parents and proceeded on his merry way. While I, on the other hand, was left to trudge slowly to the car, with more on my mind than I started out the night with, if that was possible.

I had some trouble opening the car door and I prayed my parents wouldn't notice and ask me why I was acting so oddly. They—nor anyone else for that matter—could know that my daydreams were now solely about Shang Li, and that I maybe kinda sorta _possibly_…liked him.

* * *

Hooray an update! The writing gods must be smiling down on us all. I hope this chapter is as I promised: longer and better. I actually wrote this chapter on an airplane (except for the very last paragraph, which I wrote on my computadora about 2 minutes ago). Kind of a fun fact, I dunno. Please review, thanks to all who already have, and return again for more thrilling chapters of If Mulan Went to High School. I remain, as always, Handmaiden of Artemis. Toodles!


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